Next, moving toward grounding, but no where near that yet---writing out the shit.

I am swirling with so much to think today. Let me work this out.
- Today, I feel bad at every thing. I felt as if I failed at parenting, at work, at being present with and for myself, at being a friend, at being supportive for the ones I love.
- Why am I so hard on myself, while I can be so understanding of others? Why am I so understanding with some people, and so critical of others?
- I judged the shit out of myself today and it felt terrible. I hurt my own feelings today. I had no compassion for myself. Hating me? Join the weird ass club. YUCK, right? Why do I feel better when I beat myself up, just a little (or hell, a whole lot some days)--how does that help me? How does it hurt? Please don't answer the rhetoricals.
- I also judged a woman who was behaving very, very badly. Do I hate her too? No. I feel sorry for her and wish that her hurt and lifetime of pain wouldn't spill out into my life. I would help her if I could, but I didn't have any juice left to give today.

I can't even get to the how to do better part yet. I need to sit with this shite for a night or two. The only way for me to ground out is by letting this out. I put it here so I don't forget. It's more permanent once I hit Publish. I will breathe. I know this is a safe space for me--I do know that I've created that here for myself. Trust in me. (Just reminding myself, I think.)

Need to work on my own reserve and level up the juice.

These are just some notes from a weird day. Tomorrow is not today. Tomorrow.

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

The moon moves through its phases beckoning us and pushing us away with its gravitational pull. The tides turn to face and flee the gravity, as do we, as the crest crests and the waters turn from dark to darker still.

The moon heals the blisters of the sun's rays and wind. Sun-scorched earth relents to the cooling darkness and we follow suit. Here we go into this pale night un-afraid, infantile.

We won't howl tonight, not just yet, but that night is fastly coming our way. There is no way to remain unmoved but by the light of this movable wonder, an orb of a closer sort; we will dance and sing in the dark light in a few days--just wait and see. It's time to ready yourself.

Friday, April 3, 2015

It is the last night that my husband and I will sleep in the same bed. Exhaustion drove us to sleep. Working hard, packing, organizing, sifting through nine years of our lives together. Pillows divided us on separate sides. Although the rhythms of breaths and sleeping shifts were somehow still familiar, the things missing in us were almost palpable, like a third person joined us on the ridge of dividing pillows, a chaperone.

It's nothing like the first time we slept in the same bed. A night long ago when I had hope. Hope that I could be happy. Hope that I could stop running and being so wild (untamable at the time), hope that I could escape a legacy of assholes, control freaks, intense men who wanted to change me, who wanted to own me, to tame me. D was nothing like that. We held hands some and talked (I talked) and I had hope.

Our marriage is over. This is the last night that we will spend in bed, the last night that we are truly married. That hope that I held as a young woman in my 20's is hope fulfilled.

We learned so much from each other. I feel blessed to have lived this life and these years with D. We made another person who is the most amazing creature on Earth (don't even try to mess with a mother's bias.) My daughter is a gift to us all. She will be loved and supported and lifted up always by both of us. I have never doubted this even through the end of our marriage. We stayed focused on her and her needs, well above our vanities and egos, as it should be. We let love rule here. It worked. (Compassion and foresight wins every time.)

D is a prominent teacher in my life. A man who gave me hope, let me live, allowed me the space to grow and mature into the person that I always meant to be. His quiet support gave me room. I can't say what I've taught him, that's for him to say, but we managed through all this still friends.

I leave this marriage with love, honor, and respect for D and for our union. I leave this space with gratitude and compassion. I'm sorry it is happening, but very honestly, I wouldn't change a thing. We are our own path through this part of our lives. It's been a lot of things, but nothing that I regret in the end.

If I can will anything in this world through writing it, it's this: May D have all things that bring him joy and love and peace in this world. He will always have a friend, a support, and a champion in me. This end is just the beginning.